


Blood Oaths

by alxxiis



Series: A Certain Strength of Spirit [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2018-05-10 04:14:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5570803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alxxiis/pseuds/alxxiis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>**CHAPTER REWRITES: now only in Althea's POV** The fate of the Companions comes into question when the secret of the Circle is exposed. Althea, the Last Dragonborn, must work to save her newfound family and determine their course for the future. Her complicated relationship with Vilkas is distracting at times, but they manage to work together with only a bit of malice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the main story for Althea and Vilkas. It is a major work in progress right now, and I've got a million ideas for where I want this to go (a majority of them go way beyond the story provided in the game), so bear with me. If I get far enough, this story will be full of angst and loss and heartache, but there also will be growing and understanding and some happiness thrown in there. To avoid spoilers, I'm tagging characters as they appear instead of just laying out everyone at once.
> 
> I don't always have the muse to write, but when I do, I usually hammer down until I've got the chapter finished and then I post it right away (so there will be grammar and punctuation mistakes and I apologize for that in advance). I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoy writing it!
> 
> **I may end up rewriting previous chapters and making them longer and more in-depth, but I'm also having a mini crisis and am not really happy with what I've written so far. This would be much easier with a beta reader, but I don't have one and I don't know how to find one (ANYONE INTERESTED???), so I'm on my own for now. Some feedback would be greatly appreciated and can only help my writing and this story! So thanks in advance to anyone who leaves a comment!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Althea returns to Jorrvaskr after the Companions are attacked by the Silver Hand. Her and Vilkas plan their revenge.

The city was restless. Children were crying and clutching to their parents. A few of the warriors that called Whiterun home glanced at Althea with a look of sympathy; the same the guards gave when they opened the gate for her. But that wasn’t what first drew her attention. It was the sharp metallic smell of blood. She noticed it well before reaching the stables, striking through the stench of the witches’ heads she held behind her.

Hauling the Companions’ chance at ridding themselves of the werewolf blood in a sack thrown over her shoulder, Althea hurried through the city. With an occasional wobble from the weight of the sack, her steps quickened when she caught the scent of werewolf blood.

The stairs were blocked with citizens; though a few moved aside to let her through, the others she had to push out of the way. She caught sight of Aela and Torvar, as well as several dead bodies.

“Sister,” Aela said with a nod of her head, a tightness in her voice.

Torvar simply held his sword, still ready for a fight.

“What happened?!” Althea asked. “Who’s hurt?”

The smell was too strong to be a simple wound, but she saw no sign of severe injury on Aela.

“The Silver Hand attacked,” Aela explained. “Gathered the nerve to come directly to Jorrvaskr.”

Althea rushed passed Aela before she finished speaking, dropping the sack before shoving the door opened.

Jorrvaskr’s walls shook as Althea let out a scream, her Voice tearing through her throat.

She launched forward toward the body on the floor, but something wrapped around her and pulled her back, slamming her against the wall between the front doors. A bare forearm pressed against her throat, halting her Voice.

“Where were you?!” Vilkas growled at her through clenched teeth.

His eyes were rimmed in red, but her own were focused on the red staining the white hair on the floor.

Kodlak’s lifeless body was covered by a blanket, but his head was left free; eyes closed, beard disheveled, and surrounded by the smell of blood and a fresh Turning. With a great deal of effort, Althea tore her eyes away and found Athis lying on the floor as well, but he was still breathing. Ria and Telma tended to his injuries, but whatever they were didn’t appear to be dire.

The pressure on her throat was suddenly increased, forcing a choked cry from Althea.

“Where. Were. You.” Vilkas demanded again.

His glassy eyes held Althea’s, almost daring her to look away. He looked ready to crush her throat if given a reason. Her stomach lurched, and even with their arguments, their violent sparring matches, their full-fledged brawls… for the first time, she truly feared Vilkas.

“I—I was—” her voice was barely whisper.

She clawed at his arm and attempted to kick him, but it had little effect. No one seemed to be able to pull out of the shock of Kodlak’s death enough to intervene.

With Vilkas pressing further and further, Althea grew desperate and was being pushed toward a loss of control. Her silver irises rippled with the near-glowing orange that came before Turning. As the whites of her eyes began to take on the yellow that follows, she managed to let out a guttural growl, both a warning and a plea.

Her growl managed to catch Farkas’s attention, and he was quick to jump to his feet.

“Vilkas!” he snapped, grabbing his twin’s arm and jerking it from Althea’s neck.

Doubling over and trying to catch her breath, Althea managed calm her wolf’s call and her eyes returned to their eerie silver. Her hand reached for her neck, vibrating against her fingers as she coughed, testing how tender the area was.

“I was out… on Kodlak’s orders,” she choked out between coughs.

“It better had been damn well important!” he shot back, his voice cracking as his eyes brimmed with tears. “If you’d been here, he’d still be alive! This is your fault!”

Althea let her hand fall, and Vilkas made no move to attack, but Farkas remained in place, likely to prevent more violence… at least from his brother.

Before Vilkas had the chance to speak further, Althea straightened and threw her fist into the side of his jaw. He bent to the side at the impact but shot back up, ready to retaliate.

“Don’t you dare blame this on me, you piece of shit!” she shouted, her Voice hovering over her words.

Despite her objection, she knew Vilkas was right. If she had made it back sooner, she could’ve saved him. Another sword-hand, another werewolf… it could’ve made all the difference. The thought made her chest feel as though a silver-laced sword pierced through it. Still, she stood her ground, staring down the smaller of the twins.

A strong hand on Vilkas’s shoulder and a startlingly wise voice was all that prevented an all-out fist fight between the two shield-siblings.

“This isn’t anyone’s fault except the Silver Hand’s,” Farkas said. “You two fighting isn’t going to bring Kodlak back.”

With a glance to his brother, Vilkas let out a sigh and relaxed his body.

“Where did you go?” he asked, looking back at Althea.

“Kodlak had me kill the Glenmoril witches,” she replied, rubbing her knuckles. “He thought he figured out a way to cure the lycanthropy.” Her eyes fell to Kodlak. “Shit,” she breathed. All that effort, on hers and Kodlak’s end, and she could no longer save the soul of the one who sought it most.

Vilkas turned slightly to follow Althea’s line of sight.

“I—He didn’t tell me he was going to act on his findings,” he said in a soft tone. “He told me… We’ll deal with it later.”

Taking a deep breath, Vilkas straightened his back, regaining the authoritative aura he so often carried.

“The Silver Hand stole our fragments of Wuuthrad,” he began, his voice hard. “Kodlak and the fragments are gone, but the fragments can be recovered.” Turning to his brother, he continued, “Take care of his body, Farkas. You and Aela should prepare a pyre.”

“I’m not coming with you?” the larger of the pair asked.

“Not this time, brother.”

“You’re going alone?”

“No, he’s not,” Althea said before Vilkas could respond.

“You’re not com—”

Althea stepped closer to Vilkas, leaving mere inches between them. Her index finger jabbed into his bare chest, just below a fresh wound he likely suffered in the skirmish. She ignored his wince.

“You go alone, you die,” she hissed. “You’re not in charge, no matter how much you like to pretend. I’m going with you.”

Vilkas set his jaw, but he offered no argument. “Fine. We’re going to their chief camp, Driftshade Refuge. No doubt, that’s where they’ve taken the fragments, and where most of them are holed up.”

Althea crossed her arms and nodded. “We pack light and move as quickly as we can,” she said. “We give them no time to recover.”

“Agreed.”

“Take a few of the bastards out for me,” Athis called out from behind Telma.

Althea snarled, “We’re taking them all out.”

She stepped passed the twins and knelt beside Kodlak’s body. Placing a hand on his covered chest, she closed her eyes and let out a long breath. She returned to her feet and made her way to her quarters.

Her fingers fumbled through her dresser, grabbing the first set of spare clothes she found and tossing them in her pack. She continued packing, both mindlessly and so focused she didn’t notice Vilkas in her doorway.

“Are you ready?”

She flinched at his voice but quickly steadied herself.

“Yes,” she responded, pulling her pack onto her shoulders. “We’re taking horses.”

“Of course. We give them no time.”

Running in their wolf-forms would’ve been even faster than the horses, but they needed all of their strength and energy for the battle they were heading to. There was no way to know how many Silver Hand remained.

He turned to leave, and she followed behind him. Returning upstairs, Telma was ready with parcels of food for each of them.

“Finish the bastards that did this,” Telma hissed. The words were more violent than Althea had ever heard from her.

“We will,” Vilkas replied.

Aela entered as Vilkas spoke; she noticed Althea’s and Vilkas’s packs and narrowed her eyes for a moment, but a look of understanding soon passed over her features. The two Companions that got along the least had the closest bond with Kodlak; it seemed only right they should be the ones to avenge Kodlak. That was the reason Althea assumed when none of the others seemed to object to being left behind.

“You two are going after them,” the huntress said. Not a question, simply a state of fact. “I’ll cover the immediate area outside the city. Make sure none of them remained nearby.” She paused, her gaze moving between her two shield-siblings, and her voice lowered. “The jarl will have questions. As will the whelps.”

“We’ll deal with that when we come back,” Althea responded.

Both issues would require a… delicate touch, one that wouldn’t be found in any of the Circle members at that moment.

“We’ve wasted too much time already,” Althea said, heading toward the door before anything more could be said to delay them.  “Let’s go, Vilkas.”

The pair left the mead hall and found guards outside, helping Torvar carry off the bodies. They nodded to the Circle members, a silent condolence for the great warrior’s passing.

“Torvar,” she said, catching sight of the sack by the door. “Have Aela put that in a safe place,” she instructed, pointing. “Make sure it isn’t in Jorrvaskr.”

He nodded, “Will do.” His gaze shifted to the weapons and packs the two carried. “Make sure you both come back. Can’t lose nobody else.”

Everybody had to add their own comment, taking more precious time from them, but Althea understood. She offered a nod herself and continued through the city with Vilkas at her side.

Althea glanced at each of the citizens they passed; their eyes still held traces of fear, unsure if another attack would follow. She saw no grief, no signs of true loss. The attack was focused solely on the Companions—no one else got injured in the skirmish. At least that was something she wouldn’t have to face guilt for.

None of the citizens bothered them, making reaching the stables quick work. The stables were full, and the stablemaster, Skulvar, was brushing the neck of a large horse despite it being so late at night. He noticed their approach and greeted them at the edge of the hay.

“Companions,” he said, lowering his head in welcome. “How can I help ya?”

“We need your longest-running horses,” Vilkas demanded.

“Right here,” the stablemaster said, moving between a black horse and a spotted gray one. “Saddled and ready to go. What do ya need ‘em for?”

“Vengeance,” Althea replied immediately.

Vilkas shot a glance at her but said nothing.

Skulvar nodded. “No charge.”

“Thank you,” Vilkas said.

The pair grabbed the reins of each, Vilkas with the black, Althea with the gray. They hooked their packs to the saddle and prepared for the journey; once ready, the two mounted their horses and headed onto the north road.

It was a three-day’s journey to Driftshade Refuge. If they’d left without their armor and were leaner physically then that time might’ve been shorter, but they couldn’t push the horses too hard. By horse was much faster than by foot.

When the sun began to set, the shield-siblings decided to camp for the night and continue at dawn. They stopped in a small clearing in the woods just off the road and tied their horses to the trunks of two thinner trees. They set up their own tents, Althea finishing first: she always managed to get it balanced before Vilkas, a small victory she often teased him for, but there was no humor that night. She ventured wordlessly deeper into the woods in search of kindling.

Returning a few moments later with fallen tree debris in her arms, she found Vilkas sitting beside an area he appeared to have cleared for the fire. He was fiddling with a stone in his hands while a u-shaped piece of metal sat on the ground by his foot.

Althea knelt down and set to work positioning the wood; her mind hyperfocused on making the twigs lean against each other in near-perfect symmetry. She almost had it finished before moving her right hand a tad too far, knocking most of the sticks over. Her jaw clenched, and she began again. Fingers held each stick in place for a moment longer than necessary before moving to the next, and then the next, and the next. Until they fell again.

One of the sticks cracked against the trunk of a tree after Althea whipped it through the air. Vilkas’s head shot up; she could feel his gaze on her, but she didn’t look at him. She swatted the rest of the sticks with the back of her hand and dropped into a seated position with an infuriated huff.

They didn’t need a fire; werewolves were notoriously warm regardless of the temperature. The fire was simply a comfort, but it seemed a useless effort; there was no comfort to be found while the Silver Hand still lived.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Althea and Vilkas return from Driftshade Refuge and attend Kodlak's funeral with the other Companions and the rest of the city.

The deed was done. Fresh blood ran through the dilapidated fort; it dripped from the edge of the shield siblings’ weapons, alleviating their blood lust for the time being.

They were in no state to travel, so the pair set up camp a decent distance away from Driftshade Refuge. Neither bothered with a fire, they simply retired to their tents, keeping silent and ignoring the usual wounds that came with battle.

Althea sat on her bedroll. Unsteady fingers tore at the hard loaf of bread Telma packed, but she had no appetite.

Her tired body fell backward, head hitting the pillow and palms rubbing her eyes. The scent of her fresh turning still lingered, and sitting in her tent while it bounced off the hide didn’t help, but she didn’t want to draw Vilkas’s attention or—gods forbid—his concern. She’d done that while clearing out the fort, and she didn’t want to do it again. Not to mention, the damaged armor that set just outside her tent served as a bitter reminder.

Her stomach was still turning from the day’s events; the deaths weren’t new to her, but losing control over her lycanthropy was. She’d come close a few times, the incident with Vilkas the night of Kodlak’s death being one of them, but she always managed to regain herself. Though, this time…

A few guards were posted outside the fort, but they’d been dealt with without a problem; Aela’s “voluntary” archery lessons for Althea served their purpose. The inside was empty until they passed the first corridor; there were a couple more of the Silver Hand, and they put up a better fight but still fell short. It was the same pattern: fight a few, walk a bit, fight a few more, until they reached some makeshift dining hall.

A few of the Silver Hand were bragging about Kodlak’s death, arguing over which of them landed the killing blow. Althea sensed Vilkas stiffen as they listened.

“I killed the sonofabitch,” Vilkas hissed. “He didn’t last long enough to pull the sword from Kodlak’s body.”

Vilkas tightened further, and Althea could feel his tension coiling. She moved to grab his arm but wasn’t quick enough.

He launched himself forward, and he carried her voice with him; she shouted his name, drawing the attention of whoever didn’t yet notice Vilkas. They came in like a swarm, rushing toward Vilkas just as Althea did. Her shouting, her hesitation, it gave the Silver Hand a head start. A few reached him before she had, and his rage left him vulnerable.

He fought those in front of him, defended himself, but one came in from behind. Knocked forward by a shield, Vilkas stumbled to the ground. The attacker moved to bring down a fatal blow, but Althea reached him first. Claws lashed out at the swordsman as her armor straps tore from her changing form, her armor falling piece by piece.

Vilkas scrambled to his feet and used Althea’s unintended distraction to attack those closest to him. Althea continued fighting while turning, the pain of her change fueling her attacks. With a deep growl, Althea lunged at Vilkas’s initial attacker and tore into him with her claws before driving her fangs into the exposed part of his neck.

The air quickly filled with the scent of blood and animal as Vilkas and Althea continued the fight. With her increased speed and strength, Althea took control of the battle, ripping through their foes with ease. In what seemed like a few breaths, her pale fur was drenched with blood, and the hall was filled with mauled bodies.

Althea’s wolf form stood over her last victim, a bit slouched and unsure.

“Althea,” a voice said, soft and raspy.

Her piercing gold eyes shot to its source. Not an enemy, not prey.

Vilkas sheathed his sword into the scabbard on his back and approached Althea; he kept his movements slow, well aware of the unpredictability of her wolf. Her gaze followed as he drew closer, but it blurred when the adrenaline of the fight and her sudden turn began to wane. Knees buckled under her, and she collapsed to the floor, chest heaving with a low growl as the pain set in.

The guttural sound turned into a pained cry as her body began transforming. Torso first, then her limbs and head; the process back taking longer. Althea wrapped her hands around herself, her fingers digging into her sides as the change finished and the exhausting ache throbbed throughout her now-bare body.

Metal scraped against stone, drawing her attention to Vilkas who knelt in front of her. He reached out for her arm and pulled it through a large tunic, draped it across her back, and pulled her other arm through.

“Come on,” he prompted as he helped her to her feet. “Here,” he said, handing her a pair of trousers.

Though shaky, Althea managed to stay upright with Vilkas’s hands on her shoulders as she pulled the pants on. They too were big and would’ve fallen if she attempted to move; her fingers tried to pull at the strings on the waist, but she didn’t have the strength or stability to tie them.

Gentle but strict, Vilkas pushed her hands away and tied the strings himself. His hands then moved to her open tunic, pulling each side and buttoning them together.

“I don’t need you dressing me,” Althea spat meekly.

Vilkas rolled his eyes. “Don’t act like that didn’t steal the breath from your lungs.” His voice softened and sounded almost concerned. “I’ve never seen a turning that quick,” he added. “Lift your foot.”

Despite wanting to object, she did as she was told, and Vilkas slid a boot on each of her feet.

“Where did you find these?” she asked.

“It always surprises me what they leave in random boxes in places like this,” he replied. “I found them while you were turning back.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice still holding a trace of weakness. “Did you find the shards?”

He scoffed, still kneeling as he gathered her bits of armor that had fallen. “They were thrown across one of the tables,” Vilkas snarled. “I put them in this sack. Do you think you can carry it?” he asked, motioning to the burlap by his feet that she hadn’t noticed.

“I’m sure I can manage,” she sneered.

She let out a sigh when he began piling her armor into a separate sack.

“Eorlund’s going to be pissed.” No doubt the armor was damaged during her turning; she’d likely get a lecture about not removing her armor first… not that she had planned on turning.

“All right,” Vilkas said, returning to his feet with her armor thrown over his shoulder. “We should go. Can you walk?”

“Yes, I can walk,” she replied indignantly. “Just… slowly.”

A noise outside her tent drew Althea from her thoughts and back to the present. Vilkas’s scent paired with smoke wafted in through the tent flaps, pulling Althea up to a sitting position. Glancing outside, an orange glow outlined Vilkas’s silhouette as he sat by the fire he’d started while she was lost in the events earlier. Avoiding Vilkas was still on her mind, but the warmth of the fire was too alluring.

The crackling grew louder as she stepped beyond her tent. Vilkas turned slightly at the company but didn’t look at her until she sat a few feet beside him. Embers had already settled below the fire; Vilkas had been sitting out for a while, but she was too lost in her own head to have noticed.

A few moments passed, and neither spoke. The silence weighed heavily on her, and apparently Vilkas felt the same.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

Althea sighed. “I’m fine,” she replied. “Just tired.”

He hummed softly in response.

“Thank you,” she added, “for finding clothes and carrying my armor.”

“Well, I… I acted foolishly,” he stammered. “Rushing in without thinking. I could’ve died, so… thank you.”

She said nothing in return and simply adjusted her seated position, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs.

“How did you do it?” Vilkas asked, his voice quiet.

“What do you mean?”

“When you turned,” he said. “You fought while turning. And it was so fast. All of us are stopped in our tracks when we turn, and it takes time for it to finish. How did you…?”

“I don’t know,” she answered, shaking her head. “I just—I ran after you. I saw you were in danger, and… it just happened. I guess I’d lost control.”

“Huh,” Vilkas responded. “Well, I’m, uh, I’m going to try and get some rest. We need to get back to Whiterun as fast as we can.”

“Right,” Althea agreed. “Kodlak’s funeral. I imagine they’re waiting for us to return.”

He nodded before pushing himself to his feet, hesitating like he had something to say, but he kept it to himself and disappeared into his tent.

Without the company, the snapping firewood seemed louder, but it was calming. She crossed her legs and leaned forward, embracing the smoky scent and near-overwhelming heat. Kodlak’s funeral wouldn’t provide nearly as much comfort; she didn’t even want to imagine the smell. To keep distracted, Althea grabbed the charred stick Vilkas seemed to use to stoke the fire; she dripped it into the flame, kicking up sparks that floated a few seconds until they vanished.

While she continued playing with the fire, she hummed softly to the tune of a childhood song. She didn’t have heart to sing the words, and eventually even the humming became too much. Soon after, Althea retired to back into her tent and grasped weakly at sleep.

The rest of the journey back to Whiterun was a repeat of the first night; sleepless nights and silent conversations. Relief was immeasurable once they reached the city.

The familiar scent of the other Companions carried past Jorrvaskr, accompanied by many others’ as well as the rich smell of freshly cut wood. A pyre had already been prepared atop Skyforge’s embers, waiting patiently to be relit and claim Kodlak’s body.

Althea’s and Vilkas’s return must have been seen by someone and the Companions made aware, else they would not have set up for the funeral. To do so without the two Companions Kodlak was closest to would have been an insult to all three.

Aela stood outside the mead hall to greet the pair.

“We’ll perform the service as soon as you two are ready,” she told them. “The other members are waiting.”

Althea nodded and walked passed Aela with Vilkas following behind. She dropped her belongings on the floor a few steps from the door and took the sack of Wuuthrad shards to the nearest table. The hilt still hung on the wall, but it looked so naked without its blade, even in broken chunks; she’d deal with piecing it together later, or someone else would. It didn’t matter.

The stairs creaked, and Telma poked her head up from the living quarters.

“There you two are,” she said, approaching them. “Here, take these, and I’ll take that,” she ordered, reaching for the pack Vilkas still carried while handing them each a wet cloth. “You shouldn’t attend a funeral with dried blood and dirt on your faces.”

“Thank you, Telma,” Vilkas said, giving over his belongings.

The two returning Circle members ventured up the steps of Skyforge after cleaning up, joining the others that already surrounded the pyre. Many other citizens of Whiterun joined in the final farewell but maintained a respectable distance away, keeping close to the walls of Jorrvaskr and allowing those most dear to Kodlak to be by his side.

The fallen Harbinger’s body was clothed in fabrics he probably would’ve deemed too frivolous and expensive at first but would’ve accepted for such an event. Deep hues of blue paired with white and black embellishments showed the authority and respect he held as Harbinger, and the silver wolf’s head adorning his chest served as a reminder that he was and always will be a Companion.

Althea stood between Aela and Vilkas, not that it mattered; nobody would’ve dulled the ache that filled her chest once the flames were lit. Tears stung her silver eyes and threatened to spill over onto her cheeks; she tried to hold them back, but it was a struggle. Kodlak would not wish anyone to weep for him. He’d want them to celebrate the life he had lived and remember each lesson and lecture he shared. Her efforts proved useless; it was too much denying the tears for the man that welcomed her into her family. He was her mentor, her friend, her father, her Harbinger. And he was gone.

A eulogy began from the saddened lips of Eorland; his voice was steady and strong, but this was a great loss for the old man as well. Althea listened to each word, letting them fill her ears until there was no room for the crackling of the fire.

The acrid scent that always followed a pyre filled the air, but she did not flinch, despite it burning her heightened senses.

“Who will begin the rite?” Eorland asked after finishing his tribute.

From the corner of her eyes, Althea saw Vilkas raise his head to speak, but Aela spoke up before him.

“I’ll do it,” she announced, approaching the pyre.

The fire reflected in her eyes, but seemed chilled compared to the burning emotions that stormed around her pupils.

“Before the ancient flame,” she spoke in a voice as solid as Eorland’s.

“We grieve,” the Circle members said in unison.

The Companions had few words to memorize beyond their initiation rite, but that was one of great joy; adding another to their family was cause for celebration. Reciting words for a loss was disheartening, and though Althea understood its purpose, she never imagined she’d have to use them.

Althea’s voice cracked on the last word, but her red-rimmed eyes held onto Kodlak’s burning body, as if waiting to see his soul rise from the flames.

“At this loss,” Aela continued.

“We weep.”

“For the fallen…”

“We shout.”

“And for ourselves…”

“We take our leave.”

Despite the last words, no one moved for a time, save for Aela who returned to stand with the other Circle members. They remained circling Skyforge, watching the flames eat away at the Harbinger.

Althea looked away from his body and up toward the sparks of fire the broke away from the mass, carrying bits of fabric and wood; they should’ve been leading Kodlak’s spirit to Tsun, the great watcher of Shor’s Hall, but his spirit was bound to Hircine’s realm. It was wrong. It was all wrong. He didn’t belong there, he didn’t wish to be there, but his chance to follow his heart’s desire had been stripped away simply because she’d taken too long.

Her thoughts had consumed her so, she jumped when Aela spoke.

“His spirit is departed,” she announced. “Members of the Circle, let us withdraw to the Underforge, to grieve our last together.”

How she was able to keep her composure, Althea didn’t understand, but without a word, her and the others began for the steps to leave Skyforge. Those who had gathered near Jorrvaskr allowed the Companions through to the door hidden within the stone that carried Skyforge; none dared to attempt to follow as the four remaining Circle members disappeared inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Circle argues, the Whelps argue... everybody argues, and Althea is given an encouraging lecture by Eorlund.

The Circle members stood around the basin, the very thing forcing this discussion. Lycanthropy passed to each of them; each of them willing to accept the power and the consequences, whatever they were. That felt like a lifetime ago, or a different life altogether.

Silence draped over each of their shoulders, no doubt avoiding the question that bore into their minds. The young Dragonborn certainly didn’t want to face it.

“What do we do now?”

Her eyes shot up to Farkas as his voice echoed softly against the stone. She followed his line of sight; Farkas stared at Vilkas, seeking an answer Vilkas was always willing to give. Vilkas’s hands fell onto his hips while his shoulders slumped forward, raising a bit with a heavy sigh.

“The old man had one wish, and he didn’t get it,” Vilkas replied. “It’s as simple as that.”

“He’s right,” Althea agreed.

Kodlak had a plan, a way to possibly be free from the wolf’s blood, but he never shared it with her. The only thing she had to go on was the bag of bloody witches’ heads that, given the scent of rot and decay, was just beyond the cavern they stood in.

Althea continued, “Kodlak knew of a way to get rid of the beastblood. He had-”

Aela interrupted her shield-sister with a scoff, “Being moon-born is not so much a curse as you two might think. I thought you of all people would know that, Althea.”

“This isn’t about what I want or what you believe,” the Dragonborn shot back.

Vilkas joined in the argument, his tone sharp. “He wanted to be clean.”

The pair exchanged a brief glance, a look of mutual understanding.

Vilkas looked back at Aela, hardening his expression before continuing. “He wanted to meet Ysgramor and know the glories of Sovngarde, but all of that was taken from him.”

“And there’s nothing we can do about that,” Aela sneered, matching his expression, with her arms crossed over her chest. “All we could do was avenge him, and you and Althea took care of that for the rest of us.”

The arguing continued between the three with Farkas piping in occasionally, much calmer than the rest. Voices raised to level that managed to push through the cracks in the stone door, drawing the attention of those who remained to pay their last respects; their voices and scents crept closer to the Underforge, but it wasn’t enough to deter the Circle from containing their bickering.

The scraping of stone on stone echoed through the Underforge, halting the Circle’s quarrel; Eorlund stepped through and approached the group. The emotions he had been hiding during the eulogy were beginning to break through, pulling at the wear near his mouth and eyes, aging him. He stopped between Vilkas and Althea and placed a hand on the dark-haired Nord’s shoulder.

“Let it rest for tonight,” he spoke in a soft yet authoritative voice. “Join the others in Jorrvaskr and mourn as a family.”

“They’ll have questions,” Vilkas replied, looking down at the stone floor. “They saw Kodlak turn.”

Aela dropped her arms to her sides. “They’ve already started asking questions. Athis and Njada especially.” 

“All the more reason for you to join the others,” the blacksmith remarked. “This loss and discovery could divide the Companions, and no one here could stand to lose the rest of their family.” With a light squeeze on Vilkas’s shoulder, he added, “Go. Except you, Althea.”

Wordlessly, the others obeyed, leaving the Underforge after the door had opened. Eorlund led Althea to the exit and waited until it closed behind them to speak.

“Did you and Vilkas retrieve the fragments of Wuuthrad?” he asked.

The young woman nodded.

“Good,” he replied. “I’ll need to prepare them for mounting again. There’s another piece that Kodlak always kept close to himself. It’s in his chambers-”

A sigh and a drop of Althea’s head interrupted Eorlund.

“I-I can’t go…” Her voice hitched in the slightest on the last word.

“Althea.”

His voice drew her attention from the ground and into his weathered face. The worry lines that marred the Harbinger’s were mirrored in Eorlund’s, surrounded by hair only a few shades lighter than Kodlak’s. The eyes were different; where Kodlak had held compassion, Eorlund carried determination. Determination to keep moving forward, to not let loss of life hold back from living.

“You cannot carry Kodlak’s death as if it were your own,” he told her. “You cannot avoid all that reminds you of him.” A small smile accompanied his next words, “You’re better off attacking it head on, as you’ve done with everything else. The Companions will need you, lass. They’ll need your guidance.”

The Dragonborn remained silent but held Eorlund’s gaze, wide-eyed with up-turned eyebrows, finding it hard to believe that she could lead the Companions. She couldn’t keep the previous leader alive, how could she possibly take his place?

He continued speaking after giving her time to absorb his words.

“Your time will come,” he said. “The gods have blessed you from birth. The soul of a dragon carries strength, and you will find it.” He paused and placed a hand on her shoulder. “For now, I’m asking you to get the fragment from Kodlak’s room. I’m not sure I’m the best one to go through his things.”

She didn’t understand what he meant by that, but she didn’t question it. Rather, she offered a sigh of resignation and nodded.

Leaving the blacksmith to tend to the remains of the pyre, she entered Jorrvaskr and found the rest of the Companions gathered around the hearth that lit the main hall. Their voices a contrasting chill against the heat of the fire. A mix of grief and anger; the whelps were confused and demanded answers. The Circle offered no such satisfaction.

Farkas remained silent, as he usually did in situations such as this, while Vilkas and Aela argued with the others. Words blurred together into a wavering hum in Althea’s ears; she didn’t care what was being said, even when their angered voices turned toward her.

Her steps didn’t pause even as she reached the top of stairs that led to the living quarters. The buzz in her ears waned as she swung the door shut behind her and ventured down into the hall. Althea’s boots dragged against the wood and rugs as she trudged toward Kodlak’s room. Each step seeming in place, as though she weren’t moving forward.

She never remembered it taking so long to reach Kodlak’s quarters. Of course, almost every other time she’d gone to his room, she was in a huff after an argument with Vilkas or had been called into his room to be lectured.

The familiar scent of canine that each of the Circle members shared was abundant toward the end of the hall where the Circle’s rooms were held, but the faint aroma of embers and citrus became apparent when she reached Kodlak’s study. His bedroom was hidden just behind the door that stood to her right, but she couldn’t bring herself to open it yet.

Instead, she moved to stand in front of his desk. Her fingers brushed over the map Kodlak had laid out, stopping at each ink mark he had added; she would never have the chance to ask what each mark meant. On each side of the map was a book; _Song of Hrormir_ on one side and _Great Harbingers_ on the other. She picked up _Great Harbingers_ , running her hand over the well-worn cover and the cracks ingrained on the binding. The pages flipped through her fingers, releasing the faint smell of dust and must that books seemed to gather, no matter how well they were taken care of. Althea put the book back down with a soft, airy thud.

A heavy sigh filled the otherwise silent room as she turned around and gripped the handle of the door, bringing herself to enter his room. The door opened with a quiet creak and revealed Kodlak’s neatly kept room; his bed made, his books aligned perfectly along the small bookshelf in the corner, and a few of the weapons he collected displayed on a rack on the wall. His scent was stronger here, trapped in the blanket and clothes; normally a comfort when distraught, but now only offered Althea more heartache.

He didn’t have many places that could house the fragment Eorlund sought; there was the dresser, but it seemed dangerous to hold a sharp piece of metal among clothes. Her eyes fell on one of the nightstands next to his bed before she began digging through the drawers. 

She found the fragment wrapped in softened hide, resting on a leather-bound journal. The search was quick and easy; too much time spent digging through his belongings would tear at her chest. With a silent thought of gratitude to the gods, Althea pushed the drawer shut and hurried out of the room.

The voices from the main hall grew louder as she climbed the stairs, but she didn’t pay them any mind. Again, they called out to her, but she continued past them, stopping only to grab the hilt and sack of shards before returning outside.

Her heavy steps followed the path to Skyforge where Eorlund was waiting for the last of the embers to burn out. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, staring down at the hearth; his back was to her, but she felt that the air around him was charged with grief, and it seemed to weigh on his slumped shoulders.

“Eorlund,” Althea spoke softly, stepping closer to the old blacksmith. “Here.”

He took the fragments before looking up at her and offering a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you, lass.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I can handle it,” he replied. His eyes moved to the lights escaping through the windows of Jorrvaskr before he spoke again. “How are they?”

She sighed and shook her head in exasperation. “They’re just… arguing. There’s no mourning, no comfort for one another.”

Glancing down at the forge’s hearth, she moved to mirror Eorlund’s earlier stance with her arms crossed. “I don’t understand why they seem completely unaffected by Kodlak’s death.”

Placing a hand on her shoulder, Eorlund squeezed reassuringly. “They’re confused and don’t know how to feel,” he explained. “The Companions will be forever changed by this death and this revelation. They need a direction and someone to take them in that direction.”

“So you’ve mentioned,” she mumbled in response.

“You need to hear it, girl.” His hand fell from her shoulder and grasped the metal held by his other hand. “The Companions will either live or die here. If you don’t guide them, they’ll destroy themselves.”

“Kodlak isn’t the first Harbinger to die,” Althea remarked. “Why should this death be any different than those before?”

“The Companions have been an army, a drunk rabble, a common mercenary group, a band of noble warriors,” he began. “Kodlak, in his time as Harbinger, turned the Companions into a family.”

Althea closed her eyes and raked her fingers through her hair. “That would explain why we’re so dysfunctional.”

He ignored her comment and continued speaking. “They need a powerful voice to keep their emotions from getting the better of them. Be that voice.”

“Since when was I the voice of reason?” she asked, despite her tone, she was genuinely curious. “I thought I was the hot-head.”

He chuckled softly, “That title is between you and Vilkas.”

Althea looked up at him, her eyes held by his aged, stormy blue gaze. She still didn’t understand why the duty was falling to her and not Vilkas; he was as every bit devoted to the Companions as she, and his thoughts were logical as often as hers, and his emotions clouded his judgements just as heavy as hers. Was it her status as Dragonborn? She hadn’t done anything remarkable with it; beyond meeting with the Greybeards and using her Shouts in battle, her dragon soul seemed to have little meaning.

“Go,” Eorlund ordered. “Go to your family.”

Shoulders dropping forward, Althea released a sigh and turned to leave. There would be no answers given by Eorlund, just more words of “duty” and vague reasons why that duty was hers. Effort spent prying was effort wasted.

Althea ventured back to the mead hall, hearing the still-heated voices outside the door. After setting free an exasperated groan, she pushed open the door, unleashing the full force of the Companions’ argument.

With a deep a breath, the walls shook as she let out a single word.

“Enough!”


	4. Orchard of Mines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Althea steps up and puts an end to the arguing for the time being and has a heart-to-heart with Vilkas. 
> 
> [["Orchard of Mines" by Globus]]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I may have gone a little overboard with the whole "longer chapters" thing. I've more than doubled my entire story's word count with this single chapter, but I just couldn't stop writing it. I'm not entirely happy with it (that's not to say I dislike it), but a lot of time was spent on it and I just can't change or add to it any longer.

" **Enough**!" Althea's voice seemed to echo against the wooden walls of the mead hall with enough force to silence the arguing that was still taking place when she returned inside. "We just held a pyre for our Harbinger, but you only seem to care about this werewolf shit!" she roared, pointing to each of the arguing members. Athis and Njada were leading the quarrel against Vilkas and Aela; the rest were off to the side, observing with a few added words here and there. Before anyone had the chance to combat her words, she continued still fuming, "We should be consoling one another. Mourning this loss together as a family! We are brothers and sisters. Start acting like it." 

Njada crossed her arms over her chest, not pleased with Althea's words. "A family wouldn't keep a secret like that, and Kodlak was part of it! How are we supposed to mourn for someone who we obviously knew almost nothing about? Was he the only one? Or is it all of you?" she asked, motioning to the Circle members. "A family trusts each other." 

Her mouth opened to respond, but Althea was cut off by the huntress standing beside her. "You're incredibly naive if you believe families don't keep secrets from one another. This was a matter that only member of the Circle were privileged to know. Had you become a member, you would have been told." 

"And why didn't I? I've been here longer than Althea and she moved up before I did," Njada retorted. 

Athis spoke before an answer could have been offered, "That's not what this is about, Njada." His attention moved to the Circle. "Seeing Kodlak like... that... was a shock for us. We just want some answers." 

"Finding out Kodlak was some monster from those stories my ma told me when I was little is just weird," Torvar said from the bench where he sat, nursing a bottle of mead. 

Althea sighed in resignation, realizing the issue wasn't going to be dropped until the rest of the Companions were given the answers they so desperately sought. This wasn't how she wanted this to go, and though she could have attempted to push their questions aside until she had the chance to give the situation more thought, she knew it would've been for naught. The Companions might have been known for the valor, their shining quality was their stubbornness. "Fine. Since your heads are so far up your a-" she stopped and clenched her jaw. _Don't fan the flames._ "Ask." 

A myriad of questions were thrown at the Circle until Althea interrupted, "One at a time." 

Repeating her question from earlier, Njada's voice raised above the others who continued speaking, despite Althea's instruction. "Are you all werewolves?" 

_Goddammit. Scream any louder, and all of Whiterun is going to know._ "Yes," Vilkas answered, glancing over at Althea. He was grateful she had taken control of the situation; the yelling match was leading nowhere other than more yelling and anger. "Every member of the Circle is given the beast blood." 

" _That's_ why you all have those freaky eyes!" Torvar exclaimed in words that were beginning to slur. "I always wondered 'bout that." 

Althea rolled her eyes. _Put that together all by yourself?_

"Has this always been part of the Circle?" Athis asked. 

"No, it was given to the Companions by the Glenmoril Coven sometime in the third era, I think," Althea explained. Kodlak had once shared the story of the introduction of lycanthropy into the Circle with her; she'd been very curious after seeing Farkas turn while they were on a job together, though she didn't necessary want it for herself. That decision had been practically forced upon her when Skjor cornered her with the words 'Your blood must be as ours.' 

Vilkas added, "And its continuation ends here." 

Aela interjected, "We didn't agree on-" 

"We're done, Aela." 

"I agree with Vilkas," Althea nodded. 

"But what if we ask for it?" 

Althea's eyes moved to Njada, her gaze demanding the authority she was attempting to take. "From here on out, no one else is to receive the beast blood, even if inducted into the Circle. No more." 

Aela and Njada both glared at the Dragonborn, but she didn't flinch from her decision. "What gives you the right to decide that?" Njada demanded while the huntress nodded in agreement. 

_Is it acceptable to end this by Shouting everyone off a fucking mountain?_ "We don't have a Harbinger to 'guide' us. It falls to the Circle-" 

"I'm part of the Circle and I-" 

"No, Aela," Althea interrupted. "If anyone attempts to give or take the beast blood, they're no longer welcome in the Companions." 

A silence fell over the Companions as their eyes darted back and forth between the glares shared by the two women. Even the twins couldn't take their eyes off the pair, and they had witnessed intense arguments between them before. Aela appeared ready to lunge at Althea; her fists were balled at her side and her jaw was clenched and ready to crack. The huntress wanted to speak but couldn't seem to find her voice; her anger was nearly tangible and her glare was almost pain-inducing. Althea, however, didn't break the stare and held a threat in her own eyes, practically daring Aela to challenge her. A flash of yellow replaced Aela's silver irises before she turned away and disappeared outside, not bothering with closing the door behind her. 

"Where's she goin'?" Torvar asked. 

Althea shook her head, "She's going out to throw a tantrum. That's what it does. It takes over and you lose control. If she stayed here, she could've slaughtered us." Her eyes fell on Njada, "You still want that? You want to lose your temper? Spend every night agonizingly restless? Smell and hear every time someone in the next room over decides to jack off? Know that you're never going to Sovngarde because you gave your soul to Hircine?" She let her words sink in and took a deep breath to calm herself before continuing, "This isn't up for debate. Kodlak didn't want this to continue, and we're going to respect that wish." 

Vilkas was impressed with Althea; he certainly wouldn't have wanted to challenge Aela on something she felt so fiercely about, but it wasn't just her ability to stand up to the huntress. She was taking charge, she was determined to attempt to move the Companions in the direction Kodlak had wanted, she was commanding authority in a way that reminded him of Kodlak but was also her own. Normally, he'd be annoyed out of spite by her taking control of the situation, but she was doing so in such a manner that even he was almost compelled to follow without question. 

No one else raised objections to Althea's words and since no other questions were brought forward about the lycanthropy, she ended the discussion with, "I think this needs to get put to rest. For now, at least. It's been a long day for all of us, so just... why don't we get some rest and deal with any other shit that comes up tomorrow. Alright?" 

A few grumbled responses followed before the hall was cleared and everyone made their way downstairs to their quarters. 

* * *

It had been a few hours since everyone had gone to bed, except Aela who was still dealing with her anger, but Vilkas couldn't sleep, and he wasn't the only one; over the snores of his brother across the hall, he heard the creaking of the stairs as someone made their way to the main hall. The scent that spread into his room told him it was Althea. He waited a little while to see if she'd return to her room, but when she didn't, he made for the hall. It was dark and empty; the fire that usually burned in the center of the room had been extinguished long ago and the tables were clear. _Tilma must've cleaned after we went to bed._ Althea's scent disappeared behind the doors to the training yard, but he hesitated before following. Why was he even contemplating looking for her? What good would come out of finding her? If the past was any indication, they'd just end up fighting and neither of them needed nor wanted that. Yet, he couldn't turn around and return to bed. 

He found himself leaving the hall and stepping through the yard; she wasn't here either, but she was close. Vilkas continued following into the Underforge and through the tunnel that led out of the city's walls. Althea was sitting with her legs dangling over the drop and her head lowered. Her body stiffened when she smelled him approach, but she didn't lift her head or turn around, even when he sat down next to her. 

"What do you want, Vilkas?" Her words weren't coated in their usual venom, instead she simply sounded exhausted. 

Vilkas didn't even know what he was doing here."I just, uh, came to... check on you." The words tasted weird in his mouth. "I heard you get up. Are you alright?" 

She sighed and her head seemed to droop even lower. "I'm fine. Just couldn't sleep." 

"You're not fine," he countered. 

Her head turned toward him and her eyes narrowed, "You're going to tell me how I feel?" 

"You haven't been yourself since Kodlak's death." He was treading on dangerous ground, and he was the last person that should've been approaching her about the subject, but _he_ was the one fighting by her side in Driftshade Refuge and _he_ seemed to be the only one level-headed enough to notice the change. After what he had done to her after the attack on Jorrvaskr, he felt he owed it to her to at least try and help; he was also concerned for her, though he wasn't sure why. 

A deep breath was her only response for a time until she spoke, "I don't know if I'm doing this right." Vilkas wasn't the ideal person to speak to about these issues, but he prompted her to speak, and he was being civil at the moment. She needed someone to talk to, otherwise she felt as though she was going to explode; Vilkas would have to do. "The Companions aren't supposed to have a leader, but... I don't... without Kodlak, we're going to fall apart unless we have _something_. Setting those rules about the beast blood seemed like the right thing to do, but is it what he would've done? Eorland said I had to _guide_ the Companions, not take them over. I feel like I went too far." She spoke fast, letting her words spill out in a ramble-like manner. 

Knowing Eorland spoke to _her_ and not him about the state of the Companions took a hit to his pride, but he swallowed it remembering that she had been the one to end the argument in the main hall, not him. Eorland clearly saw something in Althea that Vilkas didn't quite have. "I think you were right to declare an end to the beast blood." He sighed lightly before continuing, "I've enjoyed the boons that come with it, just as every other member of the Circle has, but Kodlak was right. We've given a piece of our souls for this power, and bargains such as that lead to ruin. This is a curse that was laid upon us. That much is clear." 

Her lips curled up slightly in the corners as she looked out to the land beyond the tunnel's opening, "You sound so certain." 

An eyebrow rose with his question, "You're not? There was no hesitation in your voice when you said the lycanthropy within the Companions was to no longer continue." 

She chuckled softly, "Well, _that_ I'm sure of." Her tone grew heavier, it was obvious the issue was one she had given much thought to, "It can't become our legacy. For a group that's deeply respected throughout the country, having something so taboo running in our blood is dangerous. Not to mention, I wouldn't trust some of the others with the blood. They know about it now, and if they still believed they had a chance to carry that power themselves, some of them would do everything they could to get it, and Aela would be more than willing to share it." Her head shook before she looked over at Vilkas, "Could you imagine Njada with it? Her heart was practically fluttering and her eyes lit up when she found out we all had the blood. She probably thought she had a chance of having it passed to her. Someone that eager to take that power without even considering the harm it could do is dangerous." 

He listened in silence as she spoke, staring down at the ground to keep his eyes from wandering to her face; she spoke with such conviction and wisdom, it was tempting to watch her lips move with the same determination. Why hadn't he noticed this before? Why hadn't he seen the natural leader she was? Back in the hall, she had reminded him of Kodlak, and she was doing so again here in the remnants of the broken tower that now led to the Underforge. Something that powerful makes its presence known, unless he was simply too stubborn and vain to acknowledge it. A frown crossed his face and his eyebrows furrowed together, shame filled him and tied his stomach into a knot. 

"What? You have no opinion? You always have an opinion." 

Her words pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned his head toward her, meeting her eyes. "I- You're right. In everything you said." He paused briefly before continuing, "Eorland sees more than a mere blacksmith should be able to. He was wise to see the Companions needed you." He offered a small smile despite the knot tightening in his stomach; _this is so strange_. Throwing punches and receiving them from Althea he could handle, but paying her compliments and being genuine in his sentiments? It was out of Vilkas's comfort zone, but they came out on their own and she deserved them. 

A smile followed by a chuckle as his words sunk in preceded her words, "By Ysmir, I think you just complimented me." 

The smile fell from his face and turned into a scowl, "I was being serious." His tone was a bit acrid, and thought his response was more out of habit than actual anger, he was slightly annoyed by her insistence to turn his praise into a joke. Perhaps her lack of ability to keep most matters serious was what was keeping her leadership skills hidden, rather than his own shortcomings; he no longer felt as ashamed. 

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, "Lighten up, Vilkas. Goddamn, I was only teasing." 

Vilkas huffed softly in response, but his frown straightened out, accepting that there was no point in growing irritated over a small matter. "You said earlier that were confident that lycanthropy did not belong with the Companions," he began, changing the subject when his thoughts returned to her previous words, "but you didn't say what you were unsure of." 

Her eyes fell to the ground once again as her mind mulled over the ways to explain her thoughts. "You're certain that the beast blood is a curse. I'm... I'm not." 

"But what you said in the hall-" 

"Was an attempt to deter Njada from wanting it. I wasn't lying exactly, but I'm not sure if the drawbacks outweigh the benefits." Her cheeks turned a light shade of pink at her admission; whether it was embarrassment over not fully agreeing with Kodlak or embarrassment at her own lack of a decision, she wasn't sure. "I hate the restless nights, and the fear of losing control, but running through the woods chasing prey impossible to keep up with on foot is just- it's amazing. Being able to smell the entirety of the forest. The soil, the pine needles, the dead leaves, the creeks... I'm not sure I'd want to give that up." The sound of a single wolf's howl echoed faintly from deep within the woods well past the farms that dotted the land outside the walls; it was deeper than a normal wolf's howl and held a note of raspiness only werewolves seemed to carry. _Aela, no doubt._

He smiled, understanding the sensations she spoke of; they were some of his favorite parts of being a werewolf. "I'm a little jealous, you know, of you and Aela. I promised the old man I wouldn't give in to the blood any longer." His lips turned to a frown. "It... it hasn't been easy. The call is always there, and when either you or Aela return from a hunt and still carry the scent of freshly turning, it's even louder." 

Her eyes widened in shock at the admission, "I always wondered why I never smelled the change on you, but I thought you might've only changed when you were out on a job or something." She couldn't imagine denying the wolf inside her; it was difficult enough when she was in a situation that didn't allow her to escape and give in, but to deny that call indefinitely seemed impossible. "That's impressive. Your resolve is admirable." 

A tease played in the corner of his lips before spoke, "By Ysmir, I think you just complimented me." 

She matched his earlier expression and replied mockingly in a low, gruff voice, "I was being serious." 

"Is that what I sound like?" he asked, glancing over at her, keeping his tone light. "Maybe I should lighten up a bit." 

Althea's gaze moved to meet his, her expression softening into a sad smile, "Kodlak would be proud of us. We're actually getting along." 

He chuckled, but an undertone of melancholy accompanied it. "Yes, he would be." 

"Vilkas, I'm..." She sighed, her smile completely gone. The guilt of Kodlak's death had weighed on her heavily, and she still blamed herself for his fate. Had she been there, Vilkas and the others wouldn't have lost their Harbinger. "I'm sor-" 

"No. Don't... don't say that," he interrupted. He turned his entire body toward her and sat on his knees. She deserved his full attention for what he was about to say, not just a sidelong glance and words from the corner of his mouth. " _I'm_ sorry." The two words that had been sitting in the back of his throat since their journey from Driftshade Refuge were finally released and no longer choking him. "I was wrong to blame you. You never deserved my anger and I treated you unfairly. It was unworthy of me. Even after my words, you came with me to wipe out the Silver Hand, and though it was for Kodlak and not me, I... I didn't deserve a shield-sibling. If you hadn't gone, the Companions would probably be down two." The words were pouring out of him, and each of them were heartfelt and genuine, but they still didn't feel like they were enough. "I'm sorry." 

She had moved to match his position and her mouth had fell open slightly in shock when he apologized, and even if he meant all that he had said, he was wrong. She shook her head and lowered it, sharp pin-pricks attacked her eyes as they began to water and traveled into her throat. "No, you were right. If I had been there-" 

"But you weren't." 

"But I should've been!" she exclaimed. "If I was faster or stronger or... I should've made it back in time!" Her voice cracked on the last word; tears were now running freely down her cheeks. Her grief was bursting through the cap she'd been keeping on it since returning from killing the Glenmoril Witches; she'd only released some of it when they went after the Silver Hand, but that had been fueled by rage. This was sheer agony. 

Seeing tears on Althea's face had always meant she was furious and ready to tear the heads off of whoever had done wrong by her, and usually it was directed at Vilkas. Those moments terrified him, but somehow, this was so much worse. His chest ached for her, and his own eyes began to burn. "That could be said of any of us. If I had been a little quicker with my blade, or Farkas a little stronger, or Athis a little more deft, Kodlak may have lived." He dared placing his hands along her jaw on both sides of her face and made her look at him. "I'm so sorry for what I said before. I was wrong, it was never your fault. Don't do this. Don't do this to yourself," he begged. 

Her eyes were already beginning to swell just above her cheekbones, and though she didn't want anyone to see her in such a state, she didn't attempt to fight against Vilkas's grip. There was no fight in her at the moment. "But-" 

"There wasn't anything you could've done. There wasn't anything any of us could've done," he cut off her words in a near whisper. His silver eyes that were rimmed with red darted to each of hers, and as he stared into those that mirrored his own, he felt himself break; his chest tightened, his stomach twisted, his throat caught fire, and his entire body ached from holding in a scream he didn't realize existed. Without a word or even a thought, he pulled her into him and wrapped his arms around her; instinctively, hers did the same. His body softly jolted rhythmically from sobs, either from her or him or both. 

Neither spoke, they simply took comfort in the cries that were muffled by each other's shoulders and gently bounced off the stone walls around them. To be in such an embrace almost made Althea's sobs worse; it had been so long since she'd been consoled in a manner like this, but she needed it, even if it was from Vilkas. The intensity with which he pulled her close told her he had needed it too. 

None of the other Companions had the bond her and Vilkas shared with Kodlak; the others were hurt from their loss, but Althea and Vilkas were completely broken by it. Vilkas never realized just how much he had been holding in. Vilkas's moved his head up from the nook of her shoulder and rested his chin there; one of his hands moved to the back of her head and into her hair, letting her blonde locks wrap around his fingers, while the other held her even tighter. Physical contact wasn't something new for them; they'd had numerous brawls and even found themselves in each other's beds a couple times, but this felt far more intimate than any other touch they shared. "I'm sorry," he repeated. He didn't know what else to say, but he couldn't handle the silence any longer. 

Taking a deep shaky breath, she pulled away from Vilkas and let her hands fall into her lap. Some of the guilt she felt for the death of the Harbinger was lifted after Vilkas's apology, and it was a relief to let out even a little of the anguish she'd been keeping locked up, but she was still concerned about what would come next for the Companions. She couldn't let herself become consumed in her grief; she needed to be focused on doing what was best for the Companions. Leading them wasn't going to be easy for anyone who stepped up to do so, but with Kodlak's death weighing heavily on her shoulders, she wasn't sure if she could do it at all. Eorland seemed confident in her, and even Vilkas believed in her, but she felt as though she was replacing Kodlak; it made her sick to her stomach to think she'd have to fill the void he left behind. "I don't know if I can do this." 

He wiped away the steaks staining his cheeks, smearing some of the warpaint he never washed away after their attack on Driftshade. A deep blush filled his cheeks at the realization that he had completely broken down in front of someone, but he pushed away his embarrassment and took solace in the fact that he no longer wanted to scream at the top of his lungs. Her voice was soft in both volume and tone, like the sound of rubbing fine wool together. "Do what?" 

"I know I'm not the Harbinger, and I'm not going to try and take that position, but I know we need someone to at least steer the Companions in some direction and Eorland is convinced I'm the one to do it." The whelps didn't know enough about the situation, Farkas wouldn't demand the authority required, and Aela would have them become a pack of werewolves running rampant in the woods; no one else could do it other than Vilkas, and for some reason, Eorland believed Althea was the better choice. She'd already accepted the role by taking charge in the main hall, but that was just a heated quarrel; could she really do all that Kodlak had done? "But what if I... I don't know... just can't handle it?" Her cheeks took on a pink color as she added, "Mentally, I mean." 

"I don't- I don't' know," he answered honestly, shaking his head. She was fragile, he realized that now, as strange as it was to think of the warrior in such a manner, and he didn't know if she could handle that responsibility. He knew she'd try and give the Companions her everything, but would that mean leaving nothing for herself? 

She sighed, "I don't know if I can do it alone." An ironic chuckle passed through her lips as she looked back up at the man sitting in front of her. "Vilkas... I think I'll need your help." _This is so... uncomfortable... or at least, it should be. Why isn't it?_ "I just- I don't think anyone else understands. I guess I'm calling a truce," she added with a smile shrouding her slight unease. 

His eyes narrowed in confusion, "You're asking-" 

"I'm asking for your help, yes," she interrupted. "I don't want this to be uncomfortable and I don't want to try and explain what's going through my head because I'm not even sure right now." 

"Okay, I- I'll help you. I'm not sure how I can, but... you won't have to do this alone." His words didn't feel like they were coming out of his own mouth; his lips were moving autonomously, but he meant what he had said. 

Another deep breath pushed from her lungs and left her shoulders slumped forward. "Thank you," she said, pushing herself up to her feet, wincing as pain shot through the wound in her back. She never had the chance to visit Danica at the Temple, though she wished she had; the priestess may not have been able to do much at this point, but perhaps she could at least dull the pain. Althea made a mental note to visit as soon as she had the chance. 

Vilkas's eyes followed her form as she stood up; her reaction to the pain reminded him of the wound she had suffered in his stead, and a new wave a guilt turned his stomach, but he was still reeling from the night's turn of events and remained motionless. When he followed her out here, he hadn't expected any of... this. A few moments passed and her hand remained hanging in the air in front of his eyes until he found his ability to move and grabbed her wrist; he pushed himself off the ground, using his own strength rather than pulling on her to avoid causing her more pain. He stood in front of her, looking down at her eyes that were level with his shoulders and fought the urge to wrap her in his arms again. It had been so easy to let himself unwravel in front of her, and holding her had been comforting; the way she fit perfectly against his body and the way her hair felt like whispers in his fingers- _Stop. Don't fall into this._ Her eyebrow rose and her lips parted just slightly in confusion as he remained staring. _All I'd have to do is lean down..._ His hand released her wrist abruptly, not realizing he'd still been holding her. "We should probably head back," he spurt out suddenly, interrupting his thoughts before they had the chance to wander too far. 

If mind reading had been a spell, she'd take up magic simply to have a glimpse of what was running through Vilkas's head. The way he was staring at her had been strange to put mildly. And why did his hand remain holding her for so long? There was something playing behind his eyes, that much had been obvious, but he offered no clue to what it could've been. Maybe he was trying to figure out what they had just been through; bawling their eyes out and holding each other? The very idea would've given their shield-siblings a heart attack, and had someone suggested such a thing would happen, she'd have thrown them to the ground. She was thankful her breakdown had been with Vilkas and not one of the others, though. He understood the pain of losing Kodlak, and despite being willing to give anything to bring him back, she was thankful for the common ground. "Uh, yeah, we probably should." 

She turned away from him and headed toward the entrance leading back to Whiterun with him following just behind. They walked together through the training yard and into the mead hall, being careful to keep their steps quiet as they returned to the living quarters. The others were still sleeping, a few snoring in varying degrees of volume and obnoxiousness, but the sound decreased the further down the hall they went, stopping in between the two short halls holding the Circle members' bedrooms. The pair stood awkwardly next to one another for a few moments, unsure of how to depart from one another. 

Althea finally broke the silence and moved in front of her shield-sibling before pulling him into another hug. She stood on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, and whispered, "Thank you. I... I needed that." 

His arms were placed on her back, being sure to avoid the wound that was hidden underneath her tunic. He bent forward slightly to make it easier for her to hold him and took a deep breath. _This should feel wrong._ "I did too." 

She pulled away and smiled before offering a quick, "Good night," and headed toward her room. Her eyes remained forward, even as she opened her door and had the chance to glance at him. After kicking off her trousers, she climbed into her bed and stared up at the ceiling, unsure of how to feel about her time spent in the Underforge. _That was... nice._ He _was nice_. _Why?_ Even against the pillow, she could feel his fingers in her hair and his breath against her ear; it raised tiny bumps across her skin and made her shiver. She couldn't think about it, not tonight. She needed sleep, and despite the heaviness in her eyelids, sleep didn't feel possible, but that didn't stop her from at least attempting. Closing her eyes, she turned over and wrapped her arms around her pillow, releasing a deep breath and sinking into her bed. 

Vilkas watched as she walked away from him and continued doing so until she disappeared behind her door. He couldn't wrap his mind around all that had conspired, and he doubted any amount of sleep would've cleared his head enough to understand it. Still, he knew he was no use exhausted and returned to his own room and fell into his bed. He turned to his side and pulled the covers up to his neck; letting out a sigh, he closed his eyes and attempted to keep his mind silent, hoping sleep would soon overtake him. 


	5. Empathy of Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vilkas struggles with admitting he was wrong while Althea continues dealing with the guilt of Kodlak’s death.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Vilkas scolded to the back of Althea’s head as his hands wrapped a linen bandage around her torso. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”

She sat on a fallen tree in front of Vilkas, miserable at having gotten wounded and having to rely on Vilkas to dress it. Her eyes remained fixated on the winding pattern in the bark as she responded, “If I hadn’t done that, you  _would’ve_ been killed.” 

Her voice was nothing more than a weary mumble and far weaker than he had ever heard. “You don’t know that. It was foolish and reckless.” Why was he still chastising her? The last thing he wanted to do was fight with her; the travel to the fortress had been tense and full of bickering, he didn’t wish the same for the trip back to Jorrvaskr. Yet, he couldn’t seem to control himself. 

“Then maybe I should’ve just let your ass get impaled,” she shot back through gritted teeth. Anyone else would’ve been grateful for being saved, but, of course, Vilkas wasn’t. Or maybe he was just upset she hadn’t fallen as Kodlak had. Perhaps he still blamed her. 

He sighed; this was what he feared. He couldn’t seem to hold his tongue, something Kodlak had warned him of time and time again. A sharp pang of agony pushed against his chest at the realization that he would never again hear such a lecture. All he had left were echoes of lessons from his Harbinger because of  _her._ Yes, Kodlak sent her away on a mission, and no, she couldn’t have known the Silver Hand would’ve attack, but... if she had been there... A sudden hiss tore him away from his thoughts; he was pulling the bandage taut in his hands, forcing pressure on her wound. He kept the linen tight and tied the ends together; maybe now she’d feel even the slightest fraction of pain he felt.

As soon as his hands fell from her back, she rose to her feet and began heading away from the camp. No words passed between the two, even as he stared at her retreating back, wondering where she was going. She had no destination in mind, she simply wanted to be alone a short while before attempting to sleep. And so she wandered, finding little of anything other than trees and the quiet rustling of foxes and deer, until she settled upon a flat formation of rocks. 

It might’ve been vacuous to step away from camp and into the wilderness alone, but she still had her sword and her senses were sharp enough to make it nearly impossible for anyone or thing to sneak up on her. Though, she wished she had at least put on a shirt before leaving; her torso was bare save for the bandage and breastband she wore. Little bumps on her skin rose as it came in contact with the cold stone; with her back lying flat against its surface, the chill seeped through her wrappings and dimmed the pain that laid underneath. 

Althea’s eyes stared up at the stars, remembering how her mother used to tell her that those who died would sometimes break through into Aetherius and leave a small hole behind, giving Mundus its stars. She couldn’t help but feel guilty knowing that Kodlak hadn’t been given the chance to create his own star; his soul was trapped with Hiricine in his Hunting Grounds. The very place Kodlak had wished to avoid in death. It was her fault, she knew that. If she had been faster, stronger, she would’ve made it back in time to save him.

The grating sound of stone being drawn against metal echoed through the trees; Vilkas sat by the fire, sharpening his blade to keep his hands busy. Time flickered away as tiny sparks flew into the fire and his mind tormented him with a swirling array of emotions. He was satisfied with the destruction of the Silver Hand’s forces, but he also felt guilty that it had been fueled by the want for revenge. Kodlak didn’t believe in vengeance, and though Vilkas was well-aware of that, he couldn’t stop himself; he needed it. Both him and Althea did. 

The thought of Althea brought about another wave of guilt; blaming her seemed like the easiest way to vent his anger. It made sense at the time- she was the only Companion absent from the fight. She was one of the fiercest warriors he had ever seen, and couple that with the power she held as Dragonborn, the Silver Hand would never have gotten close to Kodlak; her life would’ve been laid down for Kodlak’s without a second thought if she had been put in the position to do so. She loved him as fiercely as Vilkas had. 

He thought back to the battle in Driftshade Refuge; the two Companions’ attacks were fueled by rage and bloodlust, but hers was also driven with something more. He could hear and feel it in her Shouts; an emotion he couldn’t place had radiated from the power within her Voice. Even standing behind her out of danger she wielded, the sense of being trapped and weak filled him. It confused him at the time; how could someone with the ability to level all of Whiterun with a few words feel trapped and weak? 

_She blames herself._ Silence fell upon the camp when his hands came to a halt at the sudden understanding. Ever since she returned from her mission, she had been blaming herself for Kodlak’s death, and he was only adding on to that burden. If the roles had been reversed, would she have done the same to him? No, she still would’ve blamed herself; she reacted the same way after Skjor died, and Vilkas added to that as well.

A frustrated hand raked through his hair; he needed to apologize, or at least say something, anything to ease the weight of all that had happened. Her scent mixed with the harsh metallic tang of blood reached the camp shortly before she returned. She made a point to avoid glancing in his direction as she made her way to her tent. Before she could disappear again, Vilkas spoke, “Althea, wait.” She paused, but continued to keep her back to him. “I- I, uh...”  _By the Gods, this shouldn’t be so hard. Just say ‘I’m sorry.’ Two words. Two easy words._ But they weren’t easy, not for Vilkas; his actions were always definitive and he rarely regretted them. Regret meant doubt, and doubt meant weakness; Vilkas could not be weak, especially now when the Companions would no doubt need some type of guidance in such a dark hour.

With an agitated sigh, Althea tore the flap of her tent open and let it fall behind, hiding her from his view. She didn’t have the patience to wait for him to figure out whatever he had meant to say; what could he say anyway? All he could do was lay out more reasons as to why Kodlak’s death was her fault, or maybe even scold her for helping him exact his revenge on the Silver Hand. He could keep his words, she didn’t need them. What she needed was sleep; the journey was exhausting and the battle even more so, and with the added trauma of recent events, she was out before her head reached her bedroll.


	6. Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eorlund repairs Wuuthrad and the Circle begins their journey to Ysgramor's Tomb.
> 
> [["Silver Lining" by Hurts]]

Though she was the last to go to bed, Althea was the first to wake and enter the mead hall, other than Tilma who was already preparing breakfast for the Companions.

"Good morning, dear," the elder woman said as Althea approached the table.

She mumbled a soft, "Good morning," in response without so much as a passing glance.

Her mind was reeling with thoughts and worries about what the day would hold. After dropping into a chair, Althea placed her elbows on the table and let her head fall into her upright hands. There were several concerns that ate away at her: Aela returned sometime in the night and no doubt would still be angry, Njada most likely would continue pushing for lycanthropy, the secrecy of the lycanthropy had to be ensured, and there was still a bag of disembodied heads buried outside the city walls. What was she going to do with those? What did Kodlak need them for?

The sound of footsteps carried up the stairs and the whelps followed by Farkas soon gathered around the table and took their own seats, though none sat next to Althea. Torvar tried to start a conversation with Njada, but she wasn't listening nor willing to speak. She sat with a disgruntled look on her face, staring at the cooking pot Tilma was using, occasionally glancing up at Althea. The rest remained silent, and Torvar soon gave up his attempts at small talk when it became clear no one was in the mood.

Aela emerged some time after everyone had settled and Tilma was beginning to serve breakfast. Much to Althea's surprise, she sat down next to the Dragonborn. No words were shared between the pair, but the tension that existed the night before had decreased by that simple action. Everyone ate their food wordlessly and remained seated even after finishing, as though they were waiting for something. Althea sensed this, but she didn't know what they were expecting. A speech of some sort? More rules? A fight between her and Aela?

"We have to carry on," she said after finishing her plate and pushing it away. She straightened in her seat and looked up at her shield-siblings. "Obviously things are... different, but we have to accept what happened and what the rest of you now know and not let it change what we are. We still have jobs that need doing. People are still asking for our help, and we're going to give it."

Althea paused when the scent of the only Companion not present at the table traveled up from the stairs a short time before he appeared. His eyes were dark from the absence of sleep and the dark locks that were usually parted down the middle were a bit disheveled as though he merely ran his fingers through it after waking. He rubbed his one of his eyes while taking the open seat between Farkas and Althea.

Despite being a bit concerned about Vilkas, Althea continued speaking, trying to talk the Companions up though she herself felt drained. She pushed for the whelps to take on a few of the jobs they'd received. It took some persuasion since they wanted to talk more about the beast blood; Athis was interested on a purely academic level, he was interested on comparing reality to the myths for some reason, and Njada it seemed wasn't convinced the Circle was serious about the discontinuation of the passing of lycanthropy. Eventually, they gave up trying to get anything more from the Circle and paired off to take the jobs. Athis quickly took Ria as his shield-sibling, apparently not wanting to be stuck with Njada while she was still in a foul mood. Torvar never cared who his shield-sibling was, so he had no qualms against going with Njada.

Althea divvied a few of the requests between the two pairs, making sure the various jobs were relatively near one another. After they received their assignments, the whelps went downstairs and gathered their belongings for the trips. The Circle still had some things they needed to take care of, and Althea didn't want the whelps around the bother them. She was genuine in her push to continue being the Companions that they were known to be, and the requests for help couldn't go ignored, so she took the opportunity to resolve both issues simultaneously.

"We need to talk about what happens to the Companions now," Althea announced, turning her attention to those that remained at the table.

She stood up and motioned for the other Circle members to follow her, and she led them outside and into the Underforge; Eorlund was on top, filling the otherwise silent city with the clangs of his hammer on metal. Though the whelps would soon be leaving, she didn't want to risk them overhearing something before them, nor did she want Tilma or Brill to hear. She wasn't sure what exactly would be said, but she felt it would be better to keep it in private, just in case.

The grating sound of stone on stone told the four of them they were alone.

"Kodlak had a plan," Althea began. "He sent me to bring back the heads of the witches that gave the Companions the beast blood. I still have them, but I don't know what he was going to do with them," she explained, placing her hands on her hips and letting her shoulders slump forward.

"I do," the smaller of the twins replied. "He told me of a way to cleanse his soul, even in death, using the Glenmoril witches' heads. He didn't tell me you were to get them though."

His face fell when he realized she had been chosen over him for the task, but he took some pride in knowing Kodlak shared his plan with him and not her. The night before brought a much needed understanding between Vilkas and Althea, but he couldn't help the petty feelings that would no doubt linger for some time. Perhaps they would never truly fade.

"You've heard the legend of the Tomb of Ysgramor?" Vilkas asked the others. "'There, the souls of the Harbingers will heed the call of northern steel.'"

Aela scoffed, "That doesn't help us. We can't get into the tomb without Wuuthrad."

"We have all the pieces, though," Althea said with a hint of excitement in her voice. _Kodlak may still have a chance._

"Yes," Vilkas reaffirmed, matching the Dragonborn's energy. "We'll repair it, and we'll save Kodlak."

"Even if the fragments are strong enough to be pieced together," Aela countered, "what do we do once we're inside? Why do we need the witches' heads?" She questioned all that was being said, but not with disdain; her tone was that of genuine concern.

Vilkas paused for a moment, recalling what Kodlak had told him.

"There's a basin deep within the tomb," he explained, crossing his arms over his chest as he racked his mind. "It's supposed to allow Companions access to their souls through some sort of link between Ysgrammor and all of the Companions, dead _or_ alive. I don't know why such a thing was a created, but Kodlak thought that this basin was the key to ridding the beast blood."

"Where do the heads come in?" Aela asked before giving Vilkas a chance to pause for breath.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "Kodlak didn't explain the rest of it. I don't think he knew himself. I can only guess we put them in the basin, but I don't know."

Althea sighed. Her earlier excitement began to diminish after Vilkas explained the basin. The Companions disregarded magic as a tool for the weak: why would they use something that required magic powerful enough to reach Aetherius? Still, if there was a chance to cure Kodlak, they had to take it.

"When do we leave?" Farkas said, anticipation wrapped around his words.

"We still need Wuuthrad," Aela reminded him.

The entrance to the Underforge opened, halting any further words, and revealed the old blacksmith on the other side. He stepped through and approached the Circle, holding a large and heavily embellished double-headed axe. One of his hands was wrapped around the shoulder while the other held the belly of the handle. His grip was firm but respectful; he knew the legacy he carried. Four pairs of eyes stared at the weapon in both shock and awe. The legendary weapon wielded by Ysgramor was only a few feet away from them; seeing it in pieces, even when those pieces were mounted on the wall in the position they belonged, was nothing compared to seeing it repaired.

After giving them ample time to bask in Wuuthrad's glory, Eorlund spoke. "The flames of a hero can reforge the shattered. The flames of Kodlak have fueled the rebirth of Wuuthrad, and now, it will take you to meet him once more." His attention turned to Althea. "You helped gather the shards and bore the last to me personally," he began, raising the axe toward her. "You should be the one to present Wuuthrad to Ysgramor."

She hesitated, doubting whether she was truly worthy of carrying such a weapon, but she knew Eorlund would allow her no argument. Her fingers replaced his and she took the axe from him; it wasn't as heavy as she was expecting, but still, no dainty-armed priest would be able to wield it.

"Prepare for the journey to Ysgramor's Tomb," Eorlund demanded. "For Kodlak."

"For Kodlak!" the twins and Aela shouted with a newfound energy before heading out of the Underforge and back into Jorvaskr.

Eorlund followed behind them, but Althea remained. She turned and went through the tunnel that lead past the walls of Whiterun, grabbing the shovel Brill left against the stone wall before leaping down from the hidden landing. Her eyes scanned the ground for any sign of upturned dirt, and it didn't take long to find. Brill wasn't neat with his work. Placing Wuuthrad on the ground felt as though she was defiling the weapon, but she had nowhere else to put it and pushed the concern from her mind. A light breeze picked up as she began digging, causing little bumps to form on her skin that seemed to grow with each scoop of dirt she tossed to the side. Brill hadn't buried the witches' heads very deep, and it took little time to unearth the foul smelling bag.

Her nose scrunched in disgust when the scent attacked her senses, and she fought the urge to gag as she hurled the sack over her shoulder. After spending a few moments kicking a majority of the dirt back in the hole, she gathered the shovel and Wuuthrad in her free hand with a bit of difficulty and retraced her steps back into the Underforge. A loud clang echoed through the tunnel when the shovel was dropped, and the smell grew stronger in the enclosed space. She couldn't return to open air quick enough.

The other Circle members were waiting in the main hall with their packs ready to go; they each looked at her expectedly when she entered.

"Do you have the heads?" Vilkas asked.

"They're outside," she answered, gesturing toward the door behind her with her thumb. "Let me pack my things and we can go."

* * *

The air around them was filled with a strange mix of fear and excitement; they were going to be the first Companions in generations to gain entry to the Tomb of Ysgramor, but they were doing so to free Kodlak, and they worried they would fail. There was little but sporadic small talk between them during the first day of travel; it had been easy-going so far, and little more than wild animals crossed their path. When it became too dark to travel safely, they stopped for the night and set up camp. The area was flat and clear of trees, which always made Althea uneasy; without the cover of trees, Althea felt too exposed, and though there wasn't much chance they'd be attacked, her worry did not wane. It did not help that, given the smell, a farm was nearby.

 _Nothing like the smell of manure to get you through the night._ She set to work pitching her tent, as did the others.

They didn't bother with a fire; there was nothing to use as kindling, and it was still deep in the summer season. It wouldn't get too cold. After stripping their armor, the four of them sat in a circle, as if an imaginary fire prevented them from sitting in any other formation. Sheer habit. Silence filled the space between them as they kept their mouths full of bread and cheese. Tomorrow, if they did not face complications, an inn in the Pale would give them a decent meal and a proper bed to rest. They would not be so lucky the rest of the journey, however, until they reached Winterhold, and the warm weather would not hold the same power.

For the night, though, they ate in peace and were comfortable.

"I'm glad you came back, Aela," Farkas said, his words muffled by the chunk of bread still in his mouth. "I think Kodlak would've wanted us to do this together."

"Well, I..." Aela paused, clearly uncomfortable. "I gave it some thought and you two were right," she admitted, looking at Althea and Vilkas. "I'm still bothered by _your_ decision to stop sharing this gift, but Kodlak, he... he should have his wish fulfilled." She offered Farkas a small smile even though it was difficult to see, and added, "And Kodlak would want us to do this as a family."

Althea smiled, despite the jab at her proclamation the night before. _Family._ She always viewed the Companions as a family, but there was something reassuring about hearing someone else feel the same, especially someone who viewed sentimentality as a distraction, a weakness.

Farkas held his water skin up, toasting, "To Kodlak."

"To Kodlak," the others repeated, holding theirs up with him.

The Circle soon retired to their respective tents, planning to wake early and continue traveling as soon as they could.

Althea lay awake for a time, as she normally did. Sleep never came easily to her. Farkas's snoring did little to help things; she envied his ability to pass out in such a short time. She wasn't sure if Aela had fallen asleep yet as the huntress was as silent sleeping as she was hunting. Vilkas was still awake. He seemed to toss and turn just as much as she did, but eventually, he too was emitting snores of his own; his were much softer than his brother's, like a fingertip brushing against burlap.

She tried to focus on his sounds to drown out Farkas's, and to give her a rhythm to count with. Her mother used to tell her, if she couldn't sleep, then count. She asked to what number, but her mother said as high as she could. It wasn't until two-hundred sixteen that she fell asleep.

* * *

Kodlak sat across from Vilkas in his study, speaking with him about the difficulties of denying the call of the beast.

"It is our burden to bear," the old man said. "But we can overcome."

Vilkas sighed. "You have my brother and me," he replied. "But I don't know if the others will go along quite so easily."

"Leave that to me," Kodlak assured him.

The younger Nord silenced any other concerns he had when the scent of a stranger reached him from down the hall. A young woman with pale blonde hair pulled back in a long braid and a slightly larger-than-average build clad in simple leather armor approached the pair. She walked with a confident stride and bore the look of someone who would not stand for a refusal; as she got closer, however, Vilkas noticed a glimmer of anxiety hidden in the gold lining her pupils, surrounded by shades of deep green.

A glare was given and nothing more by the young werewolf. He did not trust her. Something about her felt wrong, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand, but he did not act. He couldn't. He was frozen, helpless.

She opened her mouth to speak, but it wasn't mere words that came out. Sheer power burst from her throat in a tongue he didn't understand and sent him and his Harbinger flying into the wall. Her voice continued sending wave after wave of pure energy, but she no longer spoke. It was just a constant scream. He fell to the floor after the initial impact, but Kodlak was stuck, like some unseen force was holding him against the wall. One at a time, the stone blocks crumbled until there was nothing but a black as dark as the Void in their place.

The strange woman's voice suddenly halted, but Kodlak remained, still being held in the air. The darkness behind him slowly began turning into a forest of which Vilkas had never seen. Trees thicker and taller than anything seen in Skyrim, and animals only imagined by children wandering through grass greener than Whiterun's in the month of Second Seed. A lithe man who would easily loom over Farkas walked up behind Kodlak; his face hidden behind the skull of a deer. He was bare save for a wrap around his waist.

His hand reached out toward the Harbinger as he stepped closer and closer. Thin but strong-looking fingers wrapped around Kodlak's neck, digging into the skin with his nails. Blood ran down and disappeared under his armor. He couldn't speak or make any attempts against the deer-headed man; no sounds escaped him, and his hands merely passed through his attacker as though he was a ghost.

Vilkas clamored to his feet and lunged at towering man, but just like Kodlak's hands, he went through him and landed on the ground. The grass around him grew and wrapped itself around his limbs before dissolving and turning into a large wolf. It held Vilkas down with all of its weight and snarled in his face, baring its unnaturally sharp teeth.

He looked toward the woman whose appearance shifted; her armor was now that of the Companions, and her eyes silver like his and paired with dark circles. A great building stood in the distance behind her, beyond a bridge made of impossibly large bones; the sky above it was a myriad of swirls of colors and held no clouds, but a white sun.

Out of desperation, he called out to her for help.

Without hesitation, she rushed toward them, unsheathing her blade. She unleashed a fury of attacks against the deer-headed man, but to no avail. Her attention then turned to the wolf, but before she could even attempt to free Vilkas, he shouted for her to save Kodlak instead. The woman obeyed and turned back around, taking a deep breath. Like before, she shouted in a strange language and let out a wave of force, causing the man's deer skull to fly off his head and shatter against a tree.

He cried out in pain and released Kodlak, letting the Harbinger fall to the ground as he frantically covered his face. The woman bolted forward passed Kodlak and at the attacker, delivering another series of blows with her sword, but this time they struck. He didn't have time to defend himself before he fell the ground, staining it with a putrid discolored blood-like liquid.

Kodlak's body was still slumped on the ground, completely unmoving, but the woman ran passed and toward Vilkas. He offered no protest this time as she drove her sword into the head of the giant beast; it turned into a black mist and faded away. After helping him up, the two returned to the fallen Nord just as the grass grew around his limbs like it had with Vilkas. They each grabbed an arm and dragged him toward the bone bridge, breaking any hold the grass attempted to create.

The lifeless body coughed and gasped for air; after a few moments, Kodlak's breathing became normal and he pushed himself into a sitting position.

Vilkas let out a sigh of relief and turned to the woman. "Thank you," he said between his heavy breaths. His eyes suddenly narrowed and he reached for his sword. "You attacked us first. Why?" he asked, his tone sharp and his body ready to attack.

"I never attacked you," she replied. Her voice was deep and smooth but still feminine, and did not emit the power it had earlier.

"You... screamed!" he shouted. "The walls disappeared! You brought that _thing_ and it attacked Kodlak!" His knuckles turned white as they gripped the handle of his sword.

"Is _that_ what you saw?" she asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms over chest. "I think that's what you _wanted_ to see."

"What? No! That's what I saw!" he retorted. "Why would I-"

"Because that's what you've always want to see!" she shot back, throwing her hands up and letting them fall against her thighs.

"I don't und-"

"Since the day I walked in here, you've done nothing but give me shit," the woman raged.

"You just walked in!" he countered. "I don't know who you are!"

The anger dissipated as quickly as it came; she looked at him and smiled. "You know who I am," she said in a slow and gentle voice.

Her sudden change in disposition startled him and her assurance that he did in fact know her only confused him further. Her tone, however soft, was spoken with such absolution, he knew she was telling the truth; he was not so easily swayed, but for some reason, he just _knew_. He looked down at her and gazed at each of her features; her almond-shaped silver eyes, her nose with the slight bump in the bridge, her high cheekbones, her rosebud lips.

"Althea," he whispered, as if scared to say the wrong name.

Her smile grew into one that bared her teeth and crinkled the corner of her eyes like he just fulfilled some long-kept promise to her.

"Althea," he repeated, louder this time. He grinned back, close-lipped, and stepped toward her. His hands found themselves resting gently on each of her cheeks while his fingers disappeared into the hair that loosened during the fight. "Althea."

"Your eyes are blue," she marveled, reaching up and wiping his usual warpaint from his eyes to ensure it wasn't some trick of the light.

"What?" he astonished.

He pulled away from her and knelt down in front of Kodlak. His eyes danced back and forth between his Harbinger's, unable to comprehend the hazel color now looking back at him. Standing up, he wheeled around to face Althea again and lifted her chin to keep her still.

His face fell into a frown. "They're still silver," he murmured. "Why? Why didn't yours change?"

Althea remained silent, and all the joy vanished from her face; she looked sad and exhausted. A hand from behind appeared on her shoulder, followed by another on her waist. Aela looked at him over Althea's head and smirked. Her fingers slowly elongated and turned into black smoke-like wisps, yet seemed solid at the same time. They wrapped around Althea's body and forced Vilkas's hands away.

"Don't do this," he plead. "Aela, please."

She sneered and the dark tendrils tightened their grip before flashing backwards and disappearing into the otherworldly forest. His name echoed from beyond the trees, in a scream that didn't have time to escape before she was gone.

His body shot forward into a sitting position as his breaths came in short and heavy. He was drenched in sweat and his eyes burned as they struggled to focus on his surroundings.

"Vilkas! Goddammit, get up!"

He knew that voice. _Your eyes are blue._

"'We'll get on the road first thing in the morning,'" the voice said in a mocking tone. "Yeah, right."

The flaps of his tent were tore open, letting in the early slivers of sunlight. Althea looked ready to scold him, but she stopped when she saw his disheveled and disturbed form.

"Shit," she muttered. "Are you okay?" Her voice was the embodiment of concern, and for some reason, it made his throat ache.

It took a few moments to find his voice, but he managed a soft, "Yeah. It was just..."

"A bad dream?" she finished for him.

Vilkas met her worry-filled eyes and offered no answer. _They're still silver._ He tore his own from her and looked down, feeling ashamed, but he didn't understand why.

"Okay, well..." she began. "We're going to head off soon, so maybe the road will get your mind off whatever it was."

A deep sigh passed through his slightly parted lips as he nodded.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she repeated, growing more concerned the less he spoke.

He rubbed his eyes and nodded again. "Yeah. Just a bad dream."


	7. Unfolding Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Companions prepare for the new Harbinger, and Althea gives Vilkas a gift... of sorts.

She leaned against the railing that lined the veranda of the inn. The chill of the wood dug into her forearms through her shirt and cloak, and the harsh air unmatched by the rest of the province, even Windhelm, bit her pale cheeks. A large hearth that warmed the entire building laid just behind the door a few feet away, but the cold provided more comfort.

The door opened, illuminating her silhouette on the ground in front of her. Her eyes remained fixated on the snow that disappeared in her shadow, even when the railing moved with the added weight of a body next to her.

"Isn't it a bit cold to be admiring the rustic beauty of Winterhold?"

Vilkas stood a few inches away with his back against the wood and his arms crossed over his chest. She didn't look up, but she could hear the corners of his lips rising just slightly. He seemed to be in a good mood, or as good a mood as Vilkas could manage.

"What do you want, Vilkas?" she asked, letting out a deep breath as her shoulders sunk.

His smile fell and he looked at her slumped form; it was clear something bothered her. One of his hands twitched as the thought of reaching out for her crossed his mind, but he decided against it.

"I came to check on you," he replied. "Aela told me what happened down in the tomb. I almost regret that I stayed behind."

"He asked about you," she said, finally glancing at him. "Kodlak wanted to know why you weren't there and if we were getting along." A soft chuckle passed through her lips, but it held no humor.

"Of course," he mumbled, smiling and shaking his head. "What did you tell him?"

"That you were having some emotional issue I didn't understand and that we were the absolute best of friends," she said. Her eyes held genuine amusement this time as she smirked at him. She looked away and back at the ground, her face returning to its expressionless state. "It was nice hearing him laugh again."

He frowned as guilt started to eat away at his mood. Since leaving the tomb, he felt a sense of calm and relief: something he believed would elude him for the rest of his time. Althea obviously felt no such relief and was shaken the ordeal. He didn't know all that was said between Althea and Kodlak, but given the breakdown she had in the Underforge, he could guess at what bothered her.

"Aela said he, uh, he named you Harbinger," he began, speaking slowly, unsure how she would react.

When Vilkas first found out, he was admittedly hurt by Kodlak's choice. He didn't feel right assuming he was to take Kodlak's place, but he'd be lying if he denied such thoughts. Vilkas had always been at Kodlak's side and saw himself as his apprentice. It only made sense that the apprentice would eventually take the master's place, or so he believed. Kodlak never steered them wrong in life, and he wouldn't do so in death. After sifting through the idea of her leading the Companions, he remembered her display in the mead hall as soon as Kodlak's funeral finished. She radiated leadership, and he had been in awe of her natural ability.

She visibly tensed and remained silent, her eyes fixated on nothing in particular. _I'm the Harbinger._ _I'm the Harbinger. I'm the Harbinger._ The thought wrapped around her mind and overtook her senses; she didn't even hear Vilkas say her name at first.

"Sorry," she said, pushing herself up to rest her upper body on her hands. "I'm just... I don't know." She sighed before continuing, "This is why Eorlund told me I needed to step up and be in charge. Kodlak must've told him he planned on naming me Harbinger."

"That's likely. They were close," he replied.

He didn't speak for a time and watched her in the silence. She resigned to accepting the responsibility when they spoke after the funeral, and while he could understand being uneasy, he didn't understand why she was struggling so much with being given the official title.

"Why is this upsetting you?" he asked.

Althea thought for a moment. Why _was_ she bothered by it? It hadn't come at a total surprise; she expected the position to go to Vilkas, but she figured she was at least an option. It should've been an honor, but when Kodlak gave it to her, her stomach clenched and she grew lightheaded.

"It made it all real," she finally answered. "It wasn't just that he named me Harbinger. It was him giving that title to anyone. He's... he's not the Harbinger anymore. It's someone else." She paused and sighed. "It's someone else because he's _gone_."

He listened to her ramble through her explanation and frowned. He understood, but what could he say? Words of comfort? Remind her he was in Sovngarde now, he was where he wanted to be? None of those words addressed the issue: she still ached from his death.

She expected a response, but it was clear he didn't have one. Althea let out a deep breath and straightened her back, letting her arms fall to her sides. A soft white cloud left her lips and disappeared into the never-ending wind the carried through Winterhold. Her body shivered slightly as it began registering the cold air surrounding her.

"Come on," Vilkas said, stepping forward and opening the door. "You should get out of the cold, and we should all get some sleep. We're heading out tomorrow morning."

* * *

Jorrvaskr was bustling with the energy that came with finally returning home after a long journey, as well as excitement for the upcoming event. The Circle returned just a few days before the rest of the Companions and were preparing for the ceremony to officially name Althea the Harbinger. It had been a tradition kept for generations.

A grand feast was to be held in the mead hall during midday for the Companions, those close to the Companions, and the jarl and his housecarl and steward. During the evening, the festivities were usually carried out into the streets of Whiterun. Recently, it started to center around Gildergreen, the tree in the middle of the city. When the sun set completely, the coronation itself would take place, and the party would resume after. It took a great deal of time to properly arrange for the ceremony. A day had to be set and agreed on by the Circle and the steward, a letter to the Bard's College had to be sent, and coin had to be set aside for a variety of expenses.

Kodlak was the only Harbinger any of the Circle members had known; none of them ever partook in one of these celebrations, but the stories and legends of these parties were known throughout Whiterun and beyond. Vignar and Eorlund attended several and helped ensure the Circle didn't miss any details. Vignar even offered to parley with the steward to figure out the day and returned shortly with a squirrely young courier carrying the letter for the Bard's College.

There was little more to do than wait for the day of the celebration.

Althea remained down in the living quarters while the rest of the Circle continued giving out jobs as they waited. They left Althea alone to go through Kodlak's belongings and prepare the study and bedroom for herself; it was almost therapeutic for her, and she told them she needed no help. She only left for meals and to hack away at the training dummies or spar with someone when she grew restless.

She became particularly fidgety this evening, no doubt from the beast blood that gnawed at every nerve in her body. Leaving Kodlak's study, she grabbed her sword from her room and made her way to the training yard.

"I'm worried about her," Farkas said after the door closed behind Althea. "She's been acting funny since she stopped turning."

Vilkas shrugged. "Not everyone can deny the call and walk around unphased like you, Farkas," he replied. "It's still difficult for me at times."

"You should check on her."

"Why me?" Vilkas asked. "If you're so concerned, then you can go take the place of the training dummy. I think she's handling it fine on her own."

Farkas shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You got to be the one to talk to her," he argued. "Ever since you stopped fighting, there's been something going on between the two of you."

"What?" Vilkas said, furrowing his brow. "We're not fighting, so that means 'there's been something going on?'"

"There was 'something going on' even when you _were_ fighting," Aela remarked as she neared the top of the stairs. "And that something happened more than once."

"Don't," Vilkas demanded, setting his jaw. He knew his past flings with Althea weren't a secret, at least among the Circle, but he didn't want to be reminded that they knew, and he certainly didn't want to be discussing them.

"What do you-oh. Oh!" Farkas exclaimed before bursting into a hearty laugh.

Vilkas threw a harsh punch into his twin's shoulder, but that didn't stop Farkas from laughing, it only lowered the volume.

Aela chuckled before speaking. "I do agree with Vilkas, though," she said. "I think she's making a mistake by not turning, but she's working through it. She'll be fine."

"Then _I'll_ go check on her," Farkas huffed.

"I wouldn't do that," the huntress warned. "I sparred off with her the other day and, and she nearly broke one of my ribs."

"You still want to go out there?" Vilkas asked.

Farkas's eyes widened slightly as he glanced at the door. "Uh," he began. "No, she's probably okay."

Vilkas chuckled, "That's what I thought."

"Should we... Should we help her with Kodlak's room?" the larger twin asked. "If we shouldn't spar with her, shouldn't we do that?"

"She said she wanted to do it alone," Aela reminded him.

"Althea can't do everything alone," he replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "We can't let her."

"We can't stop her, either," Aela argued.

Vilkas ignored the pair as they continued arguing and pondered Farkas's question in his head. He checked on her when she first started clearing out Kodlak's belongings. The door to the study was cracked open slightly. He gave it a soft push and stepped into the doorway. Althea was sitting on the rug, surrounded by piles of books taken down from Kodlak's bookshelves. Her back was to him, so he couldn't see her face or what she was doing, but given the soft brushing of parchment on parchment, he assumed she was flipping through a book. She didn't move, even when he asked if she needed any help. A mumbled "No" was her response, and he simply replied "Okay" before turning around and closing the door behind him.

He wondered if her answer would've been different had he asked if she _wanted_ help.

The argument in the hall ceased when the backdoor opened and Althea stepped through. A few strands of hair that escaped from from the tie that held her pale locks were stuck to her forehead with sweat and streaks of dirt found their way on her cheeks. Her gaze bounced to each of her shield-siblings, raising a brow at the sudden silence.

Farkas was the first to speak up, offering her a smile. "Is there any dummy left? Or do we have to make a new one again?"

Althea's eyes remained tight with suspicion, but the grin she gave him was genuine.

"I left the head intact," she jested as she walked toward the stairs. Her next words lost their playfulness. "Vilkas, I need you for a second." She didn't look at him for a response, she just continued down the stairs, expecting him to follow.

Vilkas glanced at his brother and Aela, confusion written on his face, but amusement on theirs. He rolled his eyes and left the others to follow her to the living quarters.

"What do you need?" he asked when he caught up to her.

"I found... something," she replied with an odd mix of excitement and hesitation.

She led him down the hall and opened the door to the study. Vilkas stopped in the doorway with his lips parted slightly, looking around at the unrecognizable room.

"You-It's so different," he said.

Her eyes followed his around the room as they examined every detail, spotting the differences and searching for anything familiar. Althea looking at him and shrugged, giving him a small smile.

"I tried to make it mine," she explained. "It's not his anymore, so it couldn't _look_ like his."

Vilkas's gaze paused at the corner where he and Kodlak were speaking when Althea first arrived and asked to join. Two book shelves were now in its place, and the table was resting in the center of the huge rug that had the Companions' insignia woven in the middle. The desk in the other corner was rotated so it faced the door and the two weapon displays were lined against the wall that held the bedroom door. Most of the clutter Kodlak gathered over the years was gone, replaced by Althea's belongings.

She watched him intently and tried to gauge his reaction. No doubt, it was a huge change for him. He spent so much time here with Kodlak, he probably felt a little bit of ownership over the room and to suddenly have that all ripped away...

"I have something for you," she said to pull his attention from the study. "I found it in his-the nightstand."

Althea disappeared into the bedroom for a second and returned holding a slightly worn, leather-bound journal.

He stared at her hands for a few moments then met her eyes, raising a brow.

"It's his journal," she said. "I-I haven't read any of it. I wanted to, but I didn't know if that was invading his privacy." She paused before continuing. "I figured _you_ could be the nosey one," she added with a smile.

"Wait, what?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm giving you his journal," she clarified, gently shaking it for emphasis.

Vilkas's eyes grew wide as his hands reached out toward the book. It was the last piece of Kodlak they had, and she was giving it to him. A lump formed in the back of his throat and his hands remained in the air for some time before finally wrapping around Athea's and the book.

"Why?" It was all he could think to say.

"I just... I don't know. I doubt he wrote a list of tips for being Harbinger, so I don't know what good it would do me, and I just thought you'd get more out of it," she rambled. Heat filled her cheeks when his hands made no indication of moving.

Althea pushed the book and hands against his chest and smiled. "You've been here much longer than I. There's probably quite a bit about you and Farkas in there," she remarked. With a smile, she added, "Just let me know if he talks shit about me."

He chuckled, "I can't imagine he ever did." His eyes dropped to the book in his hands, unable to believe he was holding Kodlak's words. He didn't know the old man kept a journal. Vilkas looked back up at Althea. "I... uh, I-" _Thank you_ didn't feel sufficient, but what else could he say or do? Hug her? Would that be too strange? Not that they hadn't before, but that was under a very different circumstance. "Thank you, Althea," he finally decided. It would have to do. "I... I really appreciate this. This is-Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied, smiling and finding amusement in his lack for words. They stood in silence for a while until Althea found it unbearable. "I'm, um-I'm going to wash up," she said, taking a few steps backward toward the door to the hallway. "You're free to, just, stay in here, I suppose."

She stopped moving and waited for his response, but he made no motion nor sound. Althea turned and headed for her bedroom, smiling to herself;

Vilkas remained still until the sound of her door closing pulled him out of his trance. He looked around the room before deciding to return to his own, eager to paw through the pages Kodlak left behind. Part of him felt guilty for wanting to read Kodlak's journal, but another part knew he wouldn't be able to help himself. Kodlak was never one to mince words, and Vilkas doubted the old man kept much from him: he was a private man, but not secretive.

He sat down and lit the few candles that sat on his desk. Running his thumb along the creases in the binding, Vilkas let out a sigh he hadn't realized built up within him. He was nervous, but he couldn't reason why. He opened to the first page and flipped through with his thumb to see how much Kodlak had written; it wasn't a thick journal, but Kodlak filled most of it. It dated back to shortly after he was named Harbinger and ended just before his death. Vilkas opened back to the first page and began reading.

**Sun's Height 11th, 4E 172**

**Before passing, Jenlith told me even the wisest Harbinger's cannot keep hold of every thought they've had, every piece of advice they've given, every problem they've faced, or anything else in their head. She said she managed to stay sane by sharing and confiding in a journal. It sounded frivolous, but after she succumbed to the illness she'd been fighting for months, I felt obligated to attempt it.**

**I am a mix of fearful, excited, and melancholic after taking Jenlith's place. During her last days, she offered any words of wisdom she might have forgotten to share with me in the past, and for that I am thankful. Her illness came by surprise and gave her little time to properly prepare me for the position, so I'm not confident that I'll have a solution for any problems that arise or make the right decisions when the situation is necessary. Vignar has been here since before even Jenlith was Harbinger, so perhaps he can be relied upon for aid should I need it.**

**Last Seed 2nd, 4E 172**

**Word of Jenlith's death and my being named Harbinger reached Jergen and prompted him to return to Jorrvaskr. I didn't believe it to be him when he approached me in my study, but when my mind was satisfied my eyes were not deceiving me, I was overjoyed to see my friend once again. He had aged a great deal during our time apart. New scars and the beginnings of wrinkles adorned his face, and his eyes appeared older and remnants of a hard life were evident. He said he wanted to return to the Companions now that Jenliith was gone and he was in dire need of my help.**

**Life as a freelance mercenary is not an easy one and despite there being a war currently, he was finding it difficult to acquire work. He brought with him to Whiterun a young woman, heavy with child. She was at the inn when he arrived at Jorrvaskr; he claimed to want to ensure he could return as a member before introducing us. I scolded him for believing there was a possibility I would deny him the request, and we shared a laugh. In those few short moments, I realized how empty the Companions had become for me after his leaving. He left to retrieve the woman after I promised they were both welcome in the hall.**

**Her name is Oriina, and her stomach looks as though it would explode given the lightest touch. I've never seen a pregnant woman grow to such a size. I tried to speak with her, but she's very closed off. Jergen explained the pregnancy's been difficult for her and drains a great deal of her energy. The shadows under her eyes are proof for his words.**

**It was after we shared dinner and she had gone to bed when Jergen confided with me that the child may not be his. She shared a bed with another man shortly before learning she was with child. I asked Jergen why he remained with her despite her infidelity, and he said he still loved her and couldn't bear leaving. I'm not sure I could make the same decision.**

**Last Seed 7th, 4E 172**

**Oriina carried twins, and they appeared healthy and strong, but Oriina did not survive the birth. They were born yesterday, a short time after midday. She died before having the chance to hold either of them. Jergen has been devastated since then and has barely acknowledged the children. He has not yet named them either. I am unsure what to do in this situation. I believed my first duty as Harbinger would be to induct new members into the Companions or settle a petty squabble. Jenlith never prepared me to console a grieving, possible father or take care of his possible children during that time.**

**Last Seed 8th, 4E 172**

**The few belongings Jergen and Oriina brought with them were gone when I woke. He left a note explaining that he couldn't handle raising two children that looked so much like the woman he lost, and he couldn't live without her. He's gone to fight in the Great War and hopes that a battle will take him, and he'll be with Oriina once more in Sovngarde. He wrote that he wouldn't blame me if I was angry with him, but any anger I may hold fro Jergen is masked by a great concern for him and the children. The note ended with a request that I care for the twins and name one Vilkas and the other Farkas.**

A knock on the door startled Vilkas and pulled his attention away from the journal. He looked toward the door, his vision slightly blurred from staring at the ink on the pages. His jaw relaxed and throbbed softly; he didn't realized he'd been clenching it. A light stinging told him tears had formed while reading, either from lack of blinking or anger. Another knock helped clear his vision, but he made no move toward the door.

"Vilkas?" Farkas sounded concerned, as though he called for his brother several times. "You okay in there?"

Vilkas stoof and opened the door, catching Farkas with his hand in the air, prepared to knock again.

"You okay?" Farkas asked again.

"I'm fine," Vilkas replied, a little sharper than he intended. "What do you need?"

"Dinner's ready," he said. "Tilma's already got your plate set. We figured you'd be back up by now." Farkas narrowed his eyes slightly, studying Vilkas.

Vilkas wasn't blind to his brother's concerns, but there was no need to explain what he'd just learned from Kodlak's journal. There was no need to even explain that he _had_ Kodlak's journal.

"I was just reading, Farkas," he said.

The answer seemed to satisfy Farkas. He chuckled and shook his head.

"I never got into reading," Farkas remarked.

Vilkas smiled. "I know. Come on. I'm starving."


End file.
